Fired
by GrampaPootis
Summary: They never thought they would get terminated. But having a raving lunatic for a leader didn't help. Soldier/Sniper, light fluff.
1. Chapter 1: Solly

"MPPH MAHH!"

"The cart is approaching THE FINAL TERMINUS, OH HAAA HAH HAHH HAAAH!"

The Engineer sighed. Another day at the old collection of rotting wood and explosives that was Frontier. You'd think a man like him, Texas-born and supporting 11 PhDs in hard knocks would be happy in a place like this. But no such thing. All day he had fallen easy prey to the vast assortment of spies the enemy got from god-knows-where. It had gotten to the point that he almost lost his precious mini-sentry to a haplessly-thrown sapper. He was beginning to hate the clangs and bangs of upgrading his little beauty, only to have her demoted and shamed when that darn spy and his tape recorder came along. He just wished-

"You _FAAAIILLLEED!_ Prepare to die!"

He winced. Wait for it…

"C'MERE, CUPCAKE!"

"AAAGGHHH AHH!"

* * *

"_ALLLRIGHTEY_, MAGGOTS! TODAY WAS A _SHHHAMMMEFULL_ DEFEAT TO THAT SCUM!"

The Soldier whacked his hand a couple times for emphasis. You had to rally the troops, after all. Morale doesn't kill, but it sure as hell helped.

"If WE are to be VICTORIOUS FOR ONCE, YOU WILL ALL HAVE TO START DOING WHAT YOU WERE HIRED TO!"

The REDs looked at Soldier as if he had suddenly grown a pineapple for a head.

"I believe we already have, Monsieur. Did you not see me _couper__ en tranches_ those scoped-in imbeciles?" The Spy berated, exhaling a large cloud of smoke from his 15th cigarette that day.

"WHY YES, I DID SEE YOU UNCLOAK, MISS YOUR FIRST TWO STABS, GET SOAKED IN JARATE, KILL ONE SNIPER WHO WAS IDILING, AND GET SHOT TO DEATH BY THEIR SCOUT!"

"Oh…merde. This is…embarrassing." The Spy blushed from Soldier's unnecessary assault of _AMERICAN JUUSTICE!1!1_. He hurriedly ran away, crying into his cupped hands. Poor Frenchie.

Just then, the RED team's Spanish Pyro walked in singing one of his favorite tunes from his newly acquired TV show, _Historias Vegetales._

"_Mira el __pepino__, __ver cómo__ se __mueve__, __como__ un __león__, __persiguiendo__ a un __ratón__! _

_Mira el __pepino__ oh, la suave de __sumo vi miento__, __como__ la __mantequilla__ en un mono __calvo_

_Mira el __pepino_

_Mira el __pepino_

_Mira el __pepino__, la __danza__, el __baile__, __sí__!"_

The Soldier walked right up to Él Pyro and punched him in the nose. Or, rather, what little cartilage was left on Él Pyro's burned face

"_¡Ay, __qué fue eso__, el hombre __cohete__?" _ He said, clutching his face protectively. The Soldier, not understanding any language but _AMERICAN!1!1,_ walked away slowly and once again slapped his palms down on the table.

"Like I said, WE NEED TO FIGHT BETTER! Didn't you TWINKLETOES get enough training with those ROBOTS?" He screeched, sending spittle flying everywhere.

"Alroight, alroight, we get it. 'You all need ta' work hardah', blah blah blah. I know outroight what I'm doin', okay? I'm a professional." The Sniper quipped, taking a quick sip from his 'WORLD'S BEST MERCENARY' mug. He had pulled it out of one of those care package crates, along with a new hat. "Lucky bahsted.", the Scout had said. "Why don't I get any hats? All I get is some stupid, dirty, hahnd-me-down cleats. I already gaht five paihs, Ma! Yeesh.."

Back in the war room, the Soldier practically tackled the poor Australian to the ground.

"I DO NOT CARE WHATEVER YOU DID IN THE 'OUTBACK', PANSY! This is WAR, and I EXPECT _EVERRYY _SINGLE ONE OF YOU TO FIGHT LIKE A MAN, AND GET THE DIRT OUT OF YOUR SKULL!"

"Or what, General _Dinkum_?"

"OR I'LL MAKE SURE YOU DON'T HAVE A SKULL TO USE, YOU LOUSY, PANSY, KANGAROO-HUNTIN'-GOOD-FER'-NOTHIN'-"

The Sniper shot his fist out and clocked Soldier in the jaw before he could continue, jumping on him as a full on fight began. They both flew off the table and straight onto the floor, becoming a cluster of flying fists and colliding kicks. The bursts of curses and meaty fist-on-face smacks echoed throughout the now almost completely silent war room.

The Demoman laughed and then cried. The Scout started muttering something about cleats. Medic tried to cover Heavy's ears, while the Russian chuckled quietly. Spy was still nowhere to be seen, although he was probably in his room crying or smoking. Or jerking off. Or all at once. Either way, the base was a mess. Just as Sniper was about to whip out a jar of his…er…'fluid', Ms. Pauling burst from the doors next to Él Pyro's now charred _cacto_.

"What is going on here? Aren't you guys supposed to be-"

She then saw the mangled mess that was the Sniper and Soldier.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING? GET OFF OF EACHOTHER, _NOW!"_

They immediately got up and cringed, waiting the inevitable smack to the cheek. After all, hell hath no fury like an angered woman.


	2. Chapter 2: They won't come back, Solly

Ms. Pauling sighed.

"Look, you guys, I..I really thought you could pull yourselves together, you know…after the whole robots thing, and the incident with the wizard guy. But…you guys have been losing and losing and _losing_…well, guys, I have some bad news…"

She paused, and took in a deep breath. The mercenaries all sat up and paid attention.

"Well…The Administrator wants me to fire you guys."

"WOT?!"

"Woah woah woah what the crap did I do-"

"Aye, lass that ain't fair! I mean…I only been drinkin' fer'…what, two months or so?"

"Ohh dis is bad…"

"Eh, I can zell my zervices to a hospital, or…somfzingk. Feh, who am I kidding?"  
The Soldier leaned over to whisper into Sniper's ear.

"We were _hired?_ I thought this was just _training!"_

The Sniper scowled and pushed the American insane away angrily.

"Your tellin' me you thought this, this _complete and utter 6 years of BULLSHIT_, was all _TRAINING_ to you?!"

The Soldier shrugged awkwardly.

"Well…I figured it wasn't any worse than WWII, and I really didn't actually _die_, so…"

He adjusted his helmet.

"…I thought it must've been some sort of new-age, robo-tech computery-thing. So…it wasn't?"

The Sniper sighed and shook his head. He walked out of the room, the rest of the team following.

"C'mon guys, let's let the man complete 'is 'training'. Bloody bogan…"

The REDs all filed out of the room, muttering insults under their breath.

"But, men, wait! I-I have some new plans for defense! Those BLU bastards won't know what hit 'im! Heh…guys?"

They didn't come back.


	3. Chapter 3: Then they left

Soldier walked into the war room the next day, hopelessly and devastatingly depressed from the shouting match the day before. He wore nothing but a pink, bloodstained robe, two torn up bunny slippers, and his helmet.

Men moved around the whole base, working away at destroying and refurbishing the torn up war zone. The Administrator had fired them. There was no doubt that all the mercenaries were packing up what little amount of items they could keep.

Soldier sighed. What had he done?

* * *

The Heavy was especially sad. No more team. No more Sasha. He had no place to live. The team _was_ paid well, but since their firing meant termination of contract, all the money had gone back to Mann Co. His little doctor offered Heavy a stay at his place for a while. But Heavy refused to burden anybody with his cumbersome self.

"But, mein Freund, where vill you stay?"

Heavy sighed. "I have place in Mother Russia. Big building. Made for strong man, big man, like me. No place for leetle doctor and birds."

The Medic sobbed. "YOU VERE MY BEST PATIENT!" he cried. "AGGHH AHH OHH WHYYYYYYY!"

The Heavy walked onto the train. The Demoman followed.

"Aye, this bette'r be 'ne 'ell of a joke! I didn't even git tah keep me Scrumpy! Not that, I'm, err…alcho-whatever without it, heh."

He continued mumbling as he swaggered onto the train.

Sniper came up behind him. Soldier followed, fully dressed now.

"Well. Er…I guess this is goodbye, private. Where will you go?"

The Sniper sighed. "Oi dunno, maybe 'ead to the outback and hunt." He sniffled. "Wot about you, mate?"

The Soldier adjusted his helmet. "I suppose I won't be able to go anywhere in America since that whole 'ex-military' thing, so I suppose I'll go to England. Maybe start up a little business or something."

He looked back to the Sniper. "Will…will you remember me, maggot?"

The Sniper glanced back, as he started up his van.

"Oi…Oi guess I will, den. G'bye, mate."

"Well, uh…g'bye to you too, Aussie. Don't get killed out there."

Sniper chuckled. He had forgotten he didn't have Respawn anymore. He shifted gears and drove away, his van slowly drifting into the distance, into the world outside their little warzone. He turned up the radio, and stiffened suddenly.

He could've sworn he heard someone crying.

* * *

Hi guys, A/N here. As you may know, this was supposed to be a humour, slight fluff story about one of my favorite Youtubers.

As you may also know, that is _NOT _what it became. Due to lots and lots of REAL LIFE drama, it slowly evolved to an angsty, sad fluffy slashfic. Oh well. Whatever the case, I hope you got what you wanted or expected out of it.

Thanks,

_GrampaPootis_


End file.
